|The author circa 1965|
I always wax poetic this time of year. There is something about the crisp air and the explosion of color from the changing leaves that make me want to pull out my worn copy of Robert Frost. I seem to be more introspective, and that always drives me to poetry. So, you will probably be seeing more of my poems on this blog in the coming weeks. In the next few days, there will also be an essay on why I write poetry. In the mean time, here is another one of my earlier poems. And yes, the picture above is really of me at about age five on Goldie.
By Michael R. Ritt
There is just nothing like a saddle.
Ever notice how every man looks taller when he is sitting in a saddle?
He doesn’t just “look” taller, he “acts” taller.
He acts more like a man.
Put a saddle under a boy and he will grow up right before your eyes.
Sitting in a saddle you can see a lot further than you could otherwise.
You get a clearer vision of where your life is going
And of what really matters.
You also can get a good look into the past.
You can see clearly the purpose of everything
That brought you to that point in your life,
And you know that you are right where you were meant to be,
Doing the thing that you were meant to do.
And you see everything as it is.
And you wish everyone had a saddle of their own.
A saddle is a place of reflection.
It is a place to find out what you are made of.
A place to decide to go forward, to do your best…to be a man.
Some folks go through life without ever sitting in a saddle.
I reckon it is just because they don’t know any better.
As for me…
I have a few more things to ponder.
And for that there is just nothing quite like a saddle.